One More Minute
by Wends
Summary: Tripe fic [read: run now]. Trowa suspects Quatre's cheating on him! Oh, the horror! [TQ, suggested QW. Rated for nothing. Based on 'One More Minute' by Wierd Al Yankovic. Read at your own risk.]


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam W. Hell, I don't own this fic! Yeah! (the song this blasted piece of junk is based off is located at the end of the fic. "One More Minute" by Wierd Al, if you're at all curious.)

The basis behind a 'tripe fic' is to create the most terrible fic possible. And it's not in regard to grammar or spelling (people have to be able to read the terror you're putting them through, and the easier you make it on their bleeding eyes the better), but rather in shear vile content. There was once a contest for these putrid fics. This particular story won Best(Worst?) of the Year when I submitted it.

_-BEGIN THE HORROR-_

Trowa stared at the report as it rolled over his computer monitor, its white letters shining starkly against the azure background that was commonly referred to as the 'blue screen of death' both because it commonly appeared when his OS died and it was also the color of the telnet window that fed him the desires of the mad scientists who ran the merrily little escapade he and his fellow pilots were currently involved in. Emerald eyes widening, he whimpered helplessly as he absorbed the information that rolled over his screen.

_"Dearest Dragon,  
I think that getting together for the weekend would be absolutely superb. I have a lovely little boat that we could stow away on and hide from those who would bother us on our sexy little tromp through the oceans of love. Tell me where I might pick you and your luggage up so we can begin enjoying ourselves and romping about having wild monkey sex like we did last time we got together.  
My dear shnooky-wooky, don't forget to bring Mr. Wiggle this time. I'll bring the lube.  
Looking forward to seeing that fine ass of yours uncovered soon,  
Your cuddly-wuddly Kitty-Quat!  
Mreow Mreow!"_

Bowing his head, Trowa sniffed, a single tear coming to an emerald eye and trailing down the length of his long nose. "I thought I was your dear shnooky-wooky, my cuddly-wuddly Kitty-Quat. You've... you've found somebody new, haven't you? Your 'Dearest Dragon'?"

Printing the page, he stared at the message again and again, his brain slowly processing what his eyes were absorbing. Sniffing, Trowa slowly rubbed the letter over his face, not caring that the freshly printed upon paper was slicing mercilessly into his skin with as much vigor as the words printed upon it had sliced into his heart. "My Quatre... My Quatre has left me. My precious Kitty-Quat, who used to so gently touch me, is now touching some Dragon. His new Dearest."

"Dearest Dragon..."

"Oh God, no..."

Dropping the letter, Trowa let his jaw drop. "HIM, of all people! You leave me for HIM?"

Snarling, Trowa punched the monitor with all of his might.

Drawing his fist out of the poor decimated piece of computer equipment, he sucked the blood that flowed freely from his fist, chewing on the shards of glass that worked loose from his mangled flesh and swallowing them ruefully.

'Well, I have nothing left without you, Quatre. But I'm not going to face you, knowing that you decided to leave me for THAT. I don't want to see those watery eyes or hear your lame excuses and some false little proclamation about "oh we were both so lonely so it was an act of mercy! Please understand, Trowa!" or what not. I'd rather... I'd rather...!'

Reaching into his mouth with his pinky finger, he tried to pry a small chunk of glass loose from between his molars as he marched off down the street.

Shredded remains of pictures pulled out of an eel skin wallet and the remains of a Rolodex card floated on the breeze that whisked by the angered boy, rustling his turtleneck and lifting his hair away from his slice-and-diced face in typical dramatic anime fashion, allowing everyone before him to scream and run not only at the terrible sight of the anger in his eyes but at the terrible sight of both eyes being visible at once.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Trowa smiled in pleasure as the malt shop burned, its colorful pastel-fabric covered booth benches and beautiful cherry wood tables having burst into beautifully bright orange flames as just one single spurt from his flame-thrower had caressed them.

The Star Regent hotel it was located in soon followed.

Nodding, Trowa marched out the door, remembering to attempt to viciously slam it behind himself for good measure.

Wincing as his fingers got caught between the hard wood of the door and the equally hard wood of the doorjamb, he glared.

It wasn't until the nineteenth slamming that his fingers had been shattered enough for the door to be allowed to fully close with that loud, dramatic 'bang' he desired.

Blowing his nose once, he snorted.

Then he realized that he'd just emptied the contents of his sinus cavity into the same rag he'd used to wrap the tube of crazy glue he always had on his person to do emergency repairs to Heavyarms and had squirted the contents of said tube into his nose. Another snort confirmed that his nose was properly sealed shut.

'Better to not be able to breath than having to see that traitorous little blonde,' he thought with a snide sneer coming over his lips.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

He found himself glaring at the message once again.

"Dearest Dragon, Dearest Dragon, Dearest Dragon! You traitorous little slut."

Snorting, he shifted his position on the seat, trying to grind a few of the thumbtacks that were imbedded in his skin after he'd jumped onto a huge pile of the devices more deeply into his flesh even as he slowly dug the ice pick he'd acquired at Ace hardware under his toenail. "That's right, Trowa. A little bit of pain, and we'll forget all about that bastard."

"Hey! What do you think you're doing, boy!"

Glancing up, annoyance in his eyes as he glared at the janitor who'd interrupted his mental purging, he snorted. "What does it look like I'm doing?" his voice softly whispered, dreadful intent held in its depths.

The Grand Central Station employee looked at him with horror in his eyes. To be frank, the poor man just had no idea how to deal with a young man who was seated on a toilet seat and digging his toes apart with an especially sharp ice pick. Wanting desperately to stop him, he scowled as bravely as he could and threatened, "Well, if you're going to continue that, I'll have you licking every one of these bathrooms clean! Just punishment for splattering blood all over my floor!"

Trowa nodded. "Fine."

And he continued to dig under his toenails with the ice pick.

After he'd finished with all ten toes, he got on his hands and knees and began licking at the filthy tile.

The employee promptly fainted.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Trowa sighed as he stared at a taped-together picture of his cuddly-wuddly Kitty-Quat and sniffled pathetically.

Reaching down, he flicked at one of the black lumps that were attached to his toes. "Suck faster. You're not getting the crap that was pushed in there by that ice pick and those tacks out yet."

The leech sucked faster.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Trowa glared at the new computer monitor, reading the message that had arrived for him even as he stuffed chunk after chunk of steak into his mouth and chewed.

_"My Dear Shnooky-wooky,  
I'll be gone for a few days. Got some business to take care of. Don't try to contact me, as I'll be rather unavailable.  
Missing you!  
Your cuddly-wuddly Kitty-Quat"_

He snarled. "That's it. That's utterly it."

"Quatre Raberba Winner, this ends NOW."

Stomping outside with his fork in hand, he glared at the huge Olympic-sized pool he'd been tossing the razor blades he'd found searching through parts for replacement components for Heavyarms into. Originally, he'd intended to keep the sharp and dangerous devices out of the way of any other salvage digger who might be so unfortunate as to not have such keen eyes as himself and be able to spot the discarded items as he had.

Now, he saw a different purpose for it.

Climbing the ladder, fork in hand, he stomped to the edge of the diving board. Staring down into the mounds of double-edged, rusted razor blades, he lifted his fork to the heavens. "Better death than a life without you, my cuddly-wuddly Kitty-Quat! Better than having to spend a single minute with you, knowing that you're not mine anymore!" he screamed.

Plunging the fork home, he sputtered and spat as he slowly yanked his intestines free of his body. And losing his balance, he toppled into the huge collection of murderously sharp blades below.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Trowa crawled free of the pool and stared at his mutilated body in horror.

'This can't be! This simply can't be!'

He glared at the puddle of blood that slowly began to spread at his feet.

"If I can't end it like that... I refuse to continue on rather than spend one more minute with him. Especially knowing that he's left me for that bastard Chinese pilot."

Plunging his hand into his own chest, ripping through skin and flesh and muscle and cracking ribs just as Heero Yuy bends metal bars, he grabbed his throbbing heart and wrenched it free of his chest. Glaring at the pumping, sputtering, blood-spurting muscle, he threw it onto the ground and jumped up and down on top of it.

A few moments later, he dropped over, dead as a doornail.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Arching a brow, Wufei snorted as he watched Quatre wave to him from the top of the heavy cargo mover. "Why must all of your 'rendezvous-with-me-here-so-we-can-move-the-Gundams' messages be so excessively obscene?"

Quatre grinned and shrugged. "What if someone was attempting to trace our movements utilizing our emails? I do it for cover."

"Fine, fine. But stop calling Nataku 'Mr. Wiggle.' That's disgusting."

Quatre laughed outright before simply waving a canister of motor oil at him. "I get to call it 'Mr. Wiggle' as much as I want, so long as you're sapping off of me for repairs and maintenance. You know how expensive it gets providing gear lube and oil for five mobile suits?"

Shaking his head, the Chinese pilot simply headed below to supervise the moving of his Gundam.

Quatre smiled as he peered up at the sky above. "I wonder how my shnooky-wooky Trowa's doing..."

_-end-_

_(thank the maker! See? Kept it short! wipes brow)_

_Well I heard that you're leavin'  
Gonna leave me far behind  
Cause you've found a brand new lover  
You decided that I'm not your kind_

_So I pulled your name out of my Rolodex  
And I tore all your pictures in two  
And I burned down the malt shop where we used to go  
Just because it reminds me of you_

_That's right, you ain't gonna see me cryin'  
I'm glad that you found somebody new  
Cause I'd rather spend eternity eating shards of broken glass  
Than spend one more minute with you_

_I guess I might seem kind of bitter  
You've got me feeling down in the dumps  
Cause I'm stranded all alone in the gas station of love  
And I have to use the self-service pumps_

_Oh, so honey let me help you with that suitcase  
You ain't gonna break my heart in two  
Cause I'd rather get a hundred thousand paper cuts on my face  
Than spend one more minute with you_

_I'd rather rip out my intestines with a fork  
Than watch you going out with other men  
I'd rather slam my fingers in a door  
Again and again and again and again and again_

_Oh can't you see what I'm tryin' to say darlin'_

_I'd rather have my blood sucked out by leeches  
Shove an ice pick under a toenail or two  
I'd rather clean all the bathrooms in grand central station with my tongue  
Than spend one more minute with you_

_Yes, I'd rather jump naked ion a huge pile of thumbtacks  
Or stick my nostrils together with crazy glue  
I'd rather dive into a swimming pool filled with double-edged razor blades  
Than spend one more minute with you_

_I'd rather rip my heart right out of my rib cage with my bare hand and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it till I die  
Than spend one more minute with you_


End file.
